by Lacey Baker
Nikki tried to scrounge up her own smile but when she couldn’t she picked up her glass to take a drink. Unfortunately she’d drank all the lemonade and the cubes of ice just fell against her lips. With a heavy sigh she put the glass down.
“She’s just doing what she always does,” Quinn was saying.
“Yeah, but today she was vicious,” Michelle said. “I overheard her comment as I was coming over to see you guys. That’s why I stepped in. I didn’t want Nikki to get up and slap her.” Michelle chuckled.
“I wouldn’t have struck her,” Nikki said even though she wasn’t 100 percent sure of that claim. “She just caught me off guard. I knew everybody would be talking about it today, but I didn’t expect her to come right up to me and say something.”
Quinn shook his head. “They don’t have anything better to do.”
“You’re right,” she agreed with another sigh, sitting back in the chair. “But what if she’s right about the customers? Maybe I should take some time off. The last thing we need right now is bad publicity. We’re already at a loss with Mrs. Cantrell and her natural hospitality gone.”
Michelle shook her head. “We’ll be fine. People know rumors when they hear them. As long as you’re here every day smiling and giving them the same service we’re known for, there won’t be a problem.”
“I agree. We should continue on as if none of this happened. Don’t give them any reason to think you’re guilty, especially since you’re not,” Quinn added.
“I guess you’re right,” Nikki said again. But she didn’t feel better. Not by a long shot.
“Hey, I hear someone calling for you,” Quinn said, still holding her hand.
“What? Who?”
“Sweet Dixi.” He gave her a huge grin that she knew was sarcastic since Dixi was still making his stay here difficult.
A part of Nikki wished she could take the puppy and keep it as her own, but a small apartment over a garage was no home for a Lab. Of course she had all the love an owner could give a dog of that nature, but right now she just didn’t have the space.
“Yeah, I think I hear her, too,” she said, figuring if anything could cheer her up after that confrontation it would be Sweet Dixi.
* * *
Sweet Dixi was more than happy to see Nikki, Quinn noted. The dog had taken to her, he suspected, since the day it was born. Watching the two of them together in the backyard of the house was more than amusing. She held the dog in her lap, rubbed her stomach, and scratched behind her ears, all things Dixi absolutely loved. Then when she put her down Nikki laughed along with Dixi as she ran and stopped, ran and stopped, any and everything grabbing her attention.
For a moment the scene seemed like déjà vu to Quinn. A big beautiful yard, lush green grass, beaming sunlight and blue waters, the female and the puppy, the family. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he blinked to clear his mind, but the scene stayed the same. Only the female changed.
Short curly hair was replaced by long straight black hair with blunt-cut bangs in front. The cute little mouth had changed to full lush lips, a brilliant smile, and deep-toned laughter. Instead of capris and a summer blouse, she wore black slacks and a teal tank top, matching teal sandals at her feet, big gold hoop earrings in her ears. When she turned to Quinn and said his name, it was in a husky timbre he remembered whispering in his ear while he kissed her neck, laughing as he tickled her feet and they rolled together in the grass one summer’s evening.
It was so intense, the stark clarity of this moment. She was right there; all he had to do was reach out and he would touch her. His fingers would skate lightly over her jawline, touching the smoothness of her mocha-colored skin. Hazel eyes would stare at him adoringly. She’d reach up a hand and tuck the long strands of hair behind her ear, then she’d reach out and touch him, pull his face down to hers.
His lips would touch hers, sweetly at first, then longingly, and the kiss would go on forever and ever, just like their love.
“You keep treating me to afternoons like this and I’ll never get any work done,” Nikki whispered when he’d finally pulled his mouth away from hers.
Quinn struggled to open his eyes, and when he did he felt like crap. No, he felt worse than crap, if that were possible. Nikki’s brown eyes stared back up at him, twinkling with satisfaction. Her small lips were red from the kiss. Her skin was like heavily creamed coffee. It wasn’t dark. And her hair … absently he lifted a hand to touch the springy curls that caught rays of the sun and looked more golden brown than black.
“Hey, you okay?” she asked, lifting a hand to touch his cheek.
No. I’m an ass, he wanted to say but didn’t. “I’m good. Just got a little sidetracked.”
“Oh, did I sidetrack you, Dr. Cantrell?” she asked playfully.
He mustered a smile because she was pretty and attractive, and smart and honest, and everything good there was in the world was found in her. And yet she was different. Too different from the woman he’d loved with all his heart, too different from Sharane.
“No, actually I was thinking about Mr. Riley again.”
“Oh, right. You said you wanted to go see him. Why don’t you go ahead and call me later with an update.”
Because she would want to know how he was doing. Bill Riley lived in this town with her, she knew his wife and most likely his children, and as he’d seen her do with people in the restaurant or people she saw on the streets, she simply took an interest in everyone. Her heart was too big not to. Another thing for Quinn to admire about Nikki.
“I’ll stop by your place when I’m finished and we can go out to dinner,” he said when he knew he shouldn’t have. He should come back home alone, go to his room, and think about what the hell he was doing in this town and with this woman. This was not the life he wanted for himself, not the dream he’d dreamed because Sharane was dead.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asked playfully, the rays of the sun dancing merrily off her hair.
Quinn shook his head, dropping his hands from her because everything he was doing felt like a betrayal. “Or if you’d rather just eat in, I can bring something over,” he said, because try as he might he just couldn’t walk away.
“Too late, you said we could go out. Amore has great manicotti. I can make us a reservation.”
And she would, Quinn thought. She’d go right back into the hotel and make all the arrangements for a lovely date, one that would be full of romance and promise. “It’s okay, I’ll take care of everything,” he told her.
When he’d walked away it was with a heaviness on his shoulders that seemed magnified. She was excited about their date—and why shouldn’t she be? Women loved dates, they loved romance, they loved … period. With that in mind Quinn knew with absolute certainty that when Nikki loved she’d love with her whole heart, her entire being. That thought frightened him. As mighty as she often accused him of being, Quinn would be first to admit—to himself, that is—that this seemingly innocent nymph of a female had him scared. He was afraid of what might be developing between them and how she’d react when she found out he couldn’t be what she wanted.
Chapter 16
This was it, their first official date. For the first few moments after Quinn had walked her into Amore, Nikki had felt like she was walking into her senior prom, with the captain of the football team on her arm. Except she’d gone to her prom with her cousin, stayed an hour and a half, and left immediately after Savannah and her date—the actual captain of the football team—headed out to that motel they’d often frequented just outside of Sweetland.
And just like at prom, the minute they walked into Salvatore Gionelli’s restaurant, every person who’d been seated at one of the small booths had turned to look at them. Her heart hammered in her chest as she caught Carl Farraway’s gaze. He was with a female whom Nikki didn’t recognize, which meant she probably wasn’t from Sweetland. Seeing him immediately recalled the questioning in her parents’ house last night and Louisa’s ru
de remarks about the same earlier today. Carl waved, and she found herself lifting a shaky hand and giving him a stilted smile in return.
“Would you all like a booth?” the hostess standing behind a shiny black podium asked.
Nikki welcomed the interruption and moved with Quinn as he stood in front of the woman to reply.
“Sure,” he said, which totaled three sentences from him since she’d returned to the inn for their date.
She’d gone home around four thirty to get ready and texted him that she’d be back at six. To her surprise, he hadn’t allowed her to drive them down to the dock to the restaurant. Instead, he’d borrowed Preston’s car. So it was a real date, she thought. A real, honest-to-goodness date with the Mighty Quinn Cantrell. Sure, the realization was dulled slightly by the fact that she’d already slept with the Mighty Quinn, but only slightly.
Nikki had been to Amore a handful of times since it opened about two years ago. All of those times had been with Cordy and the kids or her entire family for some celebratory event or another. So she was already acclimated to the dim lighting and the little ivory votive candles on a table covered with a red-and-white-checked picnic cloth. White napkins were carefully folded, silverware shined until it almost sparkled were both on the table as well. In the far left corner, past the door and the little alcove where the bathrooms were cleverly hidden, was a huge black piano that was being played by a young gentleman who might also be new to town.
“This is a nice establishment,” Quinn said, picking up the menu in front of him and opening it.
And that was sentence number four. There was something definitely wrong with him tonight. She wondered if it had to do with his job, the one he never talked about. For some reason Nikki got the impression that wasn’t a happy situation. She’d thought about asking him what was going on, but had refrained. If Quinn wanted to open up and share his life with her, he would. She hoped.
She didn’t even want to think it may be something else bothering him, something or someone else.
Shaking her head, she opened her menu and said, “Mr. Sal’s been here for about two years now. My dad says he moved here after a pretty messy divorce. She got the house and the cats, he got the restaurant name because that’s all he cared about, and he came down here for some peace and quiet.”
“So Sweetland’s a refuge now,” he murmured. “I can see that.”
“I guess for some it could be. For me, it’s just home.”
“And you’d never leave home, would you?”
She looked up at him because the question was a shock. From the look on his face, it was to him as well. Did Quinn want her to go back to Seattle with him? Would she if he did? Mentally she shook those questions off, swearing she was getting ahead of herself. Instead she put her menu down and folded her hands on the table.
“I was born here. I love it here. So far there’s been no reason to leave.” But you could give me one, please give me one, she almost finished.
“I think Michelle feels the same way,” was his follow-up, and Nikki had to really focus on not letting her disappointment show.
It was totally ridiculous, she knew. How many times had she warned herself about this very thing? And hadn’t she just told Michelle and Savannah that this thing between her and Quinn wasn’t about love? Well, she’d lied. Big time.
* * *
That’s right, steer the conversation away from anything having to do with the two of them. Why? Because it was the only defense Quinn had left. Denial had always worked for him. Or had it?
Nikki looked great tonight. That’s the first thing he’d noticed when she walked into the living room where he’d just finished with his call to Seattle. If he hadn’t been tempted to cancel the date a dozen times throughout the rest of the afternoon, after that call he’d definitely been ready to spend the evening alone with his thoughts. But she’d walked in wearing a soft yellow sundress that hugged her breasts like a glove, offering a very alluring peek at the bounty beneath the material. The material wrapped around her torso and waist to swing outward in a flirty motion as she moved from the hips down. Her hair was curly again—the way he liked it, Quinn decided right there on the spot—a pretty yellow flower tucked in its rich depths just above her left ear. Whimsical star and moon earrings dangled from her ears to touch her neck, and bracelets jingled on her wrists as she’d crossed the room to stand in front of him.
She’d looked up at him expectantly and he’d obliged, leaning forward to kiss her waiting lips. He didn’t have any other choice.
Now they were in this restaurant that was about five seconds short of serenading them with a bounty of romance to start their evening off. He’d tried to focus on the fact that he was truly hungry and he could just think of this as a shared meal. But each time he’d looked into Nikki’s eyes, he knew that was a lie. Just like everything he was doing.
The waiter arrived to Quinn’s relief and took their orders quickly and efficiently because almost twenty minutes later their food, and the bottle of wine he’d ordered to go along with it, had arrived.
They ate in silence but for a few comments about the taste of the food. Nikki really loved their manicotti while Quinn was having a hard time enjoying his penne vodka even though it was very tasty.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Hoover King said, stepping up to stand right in front of their booth.
Quinn hadn’t seen him since the night he’d pulled the man off Nikki in the kitchen. He looked remarkably better this time around. The tall woman wearing a lovely scowl right beside him might be the cause of that.
“I’d heard you two were an item, but I didn’t believe it,” the woman said snidely.
“Hello, Hoover, Inez, it’s nice to see you here,” Nikki said.
Her smile was brilliant, the calm soothing tone of her voice professional, practiced, and perfected.
“Hello, I’m Quinn Cantrell,” Quinn said, extending his hand to Inez because while Hoover had been just getting started on his town drunk reputation when Quinn had left, Inez had not been on his radar at all.
Michelle had told him that Inez was actually a third cousin to the Fitzgeralds, which would explain the air of superiority that circled her even though her husband could barely stay sober for a twenty-four-hour stint.
She accepted his hand, albeit reluctantly.
“Inez King. It’s convenient that we’re meeting with you here. I spoke to Mr. Creed earlier today and he informed me that you and your siblings now own The Silver Spoon and the property it’s located on.”
Quinn nodded, keeping eye contact with Inez, but very aware of the way Hoover was glancing at Nikki.
“We do,” he answered, feeling really skeptical about where this conversation was going.
“For now,” Hoover attempted to whisper, but Quinn heard him clearly.
“The inn is doing wonderfully,” Nikki put in. “Michelle’s garnering rave reviews with the restaurant and we’re booking steadily.”
Quinn got the impression that Nikki knew something he didn’t.
“And yet you still owe on the taxes,” Inez stated, touching her bright red-painted nails to the edge of the table. “We’ve been very lenient in that department. But now that ownership is changing hands we’ll have to request immediate payment.”
“That’s not the information I received from my meeting with the mayor,” Quinn said. He wasn’t comfortable having this discussion in this setting where anyone could overhear. Obviously the town council of Sweetland didn’t have those same reservations.
“Payment is due immediately,” Hoover added emphatically, then coughed a wheezing sound that most likely indicated his liquor consumption tank was on empty.
On a better day, under different circumstances, Quinn might have offered to buy him a drink—probably non-alcoholic—or to offer his assistance in some way. Not tonight.
“Or we’ll foreclose and sell that property faster than your brother rides that bike of his,” Hoover finished, his eyes now water
ing after the coughing exertion.
Nikki looked alarmed. “You cannot sell The Silver Spoon. Mrs. Cantrell was a member of one of the founding families. She was a matriarch in this town. How can you even stand there and threaten something like that?”
“Because we’re the town council. We do what’s in the best interest of Sweetland. If Mrs. Cantrell, the good matriarch, didn’t have the foresight to pay her bills before she croaked—”
“That’s enough,” Quinn interjected sternly.
“I’m not finished,” Inez started again.
“Oh yes you are,” Quinn told her with a tone that he knew would get no argument.
Inez’s lips snapped shut and Hoover stood mutely beside her.
“The tax bill will be paid,” he stated firmly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were having dinner.”
“Wanted her all to yourself, huh?” Hoover said eyeing Quinn.
“Don’t,” Quinn warned him with a glare and a shake of his head. The way he was feeling at this moment he couldn’t promise he wouldn’t punch the man in his sweat-riddled face.
“Is there a problem?” A tall man wearing a black suit arrived to ask. Over his shoulder Quinn could see their waiter peeking as if he wanted to help but was afraid to.
“Mr. Sal,” Nikki said with what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Everything is fine.”
“Everything is not fine,” Quinn stated. “These two are interrupting our dinner.”
“We are the town council,” Inez repeated, as if that meant something to Quinn.
It did not. And he was beyond pissed off that these two walked around like they alone were the law in this town. If this was how things were going in Sweetland … no, he didn’t dare finish that thought.
“You are interrupting,” Quinn insisted.
“Let’s just go,” Nikki said, dropping her napkin onto her plate.
“No, you are not finished with your meal,” Sal insisted.
But Nikki was already standing, which said she was ready to go. Quinn’s head throbbed as he once again felt like he should have canceled this date this afternoon. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his wallet and gave the waiter his credit card.